


good god, i wish i was tall

by epilogues



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Curses, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:39:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epilogues/pseuds/epilogues
Summary: person a is cursed to shrink every time they lie. person b jokingly asks them if they're in love with anyone, forcing a to deny it until they're the size of a doll or tell b the truth about their feelings.





	good god, i wish i was tall

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to otpprompting.tumblr.com for the prompt!! <3

The first time it happened was when Patrick was five. His mom had asked him if he’d made his bed, he’d lied and said that he had, and then suddenly he was one foot tall and crying. His mother shrieked. Patrick, thinking that this was some terrible new punishment, confessed quickly and grew back to normal.

It’s pretty much been a non-issue since then; Patrick’s stayed honest (except for the occasional white lie). He shrinks less each time as he gets older, losing only an inch or two per lie for the most part, and the minute he corrects himself with the truth, he’s back to normal. 

The band knows, thanks to a really . . . interesting night at a bar, but again, it’s a non-issue. 

Or at least, it’s  _ been  _ a non-issue up until now. Pete and Andy are asleep, but Joe and Patrick are sitting up talking on the couch in the center of the bus. And Joe (jokingly, of course) just asked Patrick, “You in  _ looooove  _ with anyone, Trick?”

And _ shit _ . Because Patrick might be just a tiny bit in love with Joe, and, uh, he wasn’t planning at confessing that. To anyone. Ever. “No,” he lies without thinking, panic stealing any and all logic he might have possessed. He can feel the loss of a few inches almost instantly. 

Joe’s eyebrows raise. Something in the atmosphere shifts the conversation just next door to just joking around. “You just shrank, dude, c’mon.”

“Fine. Fine. Yes,” Patrick grumbles, relieved as he grows back to his normal size. 

But Joe’s not done. “Who is it?” 

“You don’t know him,” Patrick says. He shrinks again, but he curls in on himself as he does so Joe hopefully doesn’t notice. 

“Try me. What’s his name?” 

Patrick shakes his head. Maybe keeping silent will work. (It doesn’t. The lie by omission steals another couple of inches.) “It’s Jo...hn.  John.” There’s a second before he shrinks this time, as if the curse or whatever the fuck it is is debating whether or not to count that as the truth, but Patrick loses an entire fucking foot nonetheless.

“C’mon, Trick, I’m not gonna laugh or anything,” Joe says. “I see you shrinking.”

Patrick’s really starting to freak out now; he’s about a foot and a half shorter than normal. “Joe, please, just drop it,” he says.

“And then you just stay like this until you decide to admit it? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force you into anything, but you  _ can’t  _ stay like this. We have an interview tomorrow morning.”

Patrick bites his lip. He knows that Joe’s right, but he can’t bring himself to admit it. There’s no way that Joe loves him too, and then the band’s dynamic might change and–. Yeah. No. He can’t do this. “I’m just. I’m going to bed,” Patrick says. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Okay. Fine,” Joe relents. “Sorry.”

Patrick mumbles something like, “It’s okay,” but it’s also kind of not because now he’s stuck at this size until he confessed to Joe. And the fact that he just told a sort of lie has cost him another six inches. Fucking  _ great. _

* * *

“Uh, Patrick? You’re looking kind of. . . short. But not really kind of. And we have an interview in two hours,” Pete says carefully as he sits down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

Patrick throws his toast onto a plate and stalks over to the table, struggling a bit to clamber up onto a chair. “I’m aware,” he grits out.

“Do you mind me asking what happened?”

“I lied,” Patrick says curtly.

Pete sighs. “To Joe?”

Patrick nods and takes a tiny bite of his toast.

“Do you maybe want to tell him the truth about whatever it is so we don’t have to go to an interview and explain why you’re, like, two feet shorter than normal?”

“No,” huffs Patrick.

Pete pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again. His eyes flick to the bunks like he’s considering waking Joe and Andy for back-up before he turns back to Patrick. “Dude, Joe already knows pretty much everything about you. What the fuck can’t you tell him?”

Patrick hits his head against the edge of the table with a dull  _ thunk.  _ “That I’m kinda in love with him,” Patrick grumbles, because he knows there’s no way to get Pete off his ass now unless he confesses.

“Called it,” says Pete, smirking a bit. “You should just tell him, dude.”

Patrick shakes his head. “ _ Hell  _ no.”

“Hate to break it to you, dude,” Pete replies, “but I don’t think there’s much of a choice here. You can’t go to the interview like this, and it’s too late to try and cancel now.”

Patrick shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t risk fucking up the band or just things with Joe in general.”

“You won’t,” Pete says, a little too confidently.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Patrick asks, because that’s Pete’s  _ I know something and it’s kinda funny to me but I won’t say anything because I’m trying to be tactful right now  _ voice.

Pete glances around the bus for a second before leaning in and whispering, “He loves you too, dumb fucker.”

Patrick feels like the floor has been yanked out from under his feet, but he doesn’t even have time to process Pete’s words before Joe walks in.

“Hey,” says Joe. “Is Patrick still…shit. He is. ”

Patrick is currently staring at Pete, eyes wide and completely dumbfounded.

Pete snorts. “Yeah.”

“Trick?” Joe says. “Everything okay?”

Patrick nods slowly.  _ Joe loves him too?  _ Pete’s words are stuck on loop in his head, drowning out pretty much everything else.

Joe pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down next to Patrick. “Dude. Will you just fucking tell me who it is so we can all stop stressing? I’m not going to judge.”

Patrick bangs his head against the table edge again but remains resolutely silent.  _ If what Pete said is true. . .but what if it’s not? What if he’s just trying to make me confess before the interview? _

Pete stands up from the table a second of silence later, scraping his chair across the floor dramatically. “I’m going to go get ready,” he announces. “You two can sort this out on your own.”

“C’mon, Patrick,” Joe insists. “Whoever it is, it’s okay. I won’t judge. Just. . .tell me, okay?” There’s an almost nervous edge to his voice as he speaks.

Patrick kind of wants to sink into the floorboards and disappear, but he’s also starting to get really sick of being so goddamn small. Not to mention, Pete’s words are still echoing in his head. So, very slowly, Patrick lifts his head to look at Joe and says, “It’s you.”

Immediately, Patrick’s stomach twists and he’s back to his usual size. He’s grateful for the few seconds of processing time the change gives him before he has to look at Joe again.

Joe is staring at Patrick, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “You. . .really?”

“Well, yeah,” Patrick says, gesturing to his normal-sized self with slightly shaking hands.

Joe still looks shell-shocked as he says, “Me too. Like, I love you. Not like, I love  _ me  _ too. Um. Yeah.”

“So, uh, would you wanna, like, date?” Patrick’s foot has apparently decided that anxious tapping is its new hobby.

“If you want to?” 

“How could I  _ not  _ want to?” Patrick says with a small smile.

“I mean-“ Joe starts, but he’s cut off when Patrick kisses him.

Patrick pulls away before Joe can think to kiss back, cheeks turning bright red. He ducks his head down, but a second later, Joe is gently lifting his chin and they’re kissing for real and Patrick has never been so, so grateful for his stupid curse.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feedback makes my day :D


End file.
